


Shadows Cast

by MirrorMystic



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: Grief is a wound that no magic can heal.A meeting, a magic lesson, and things unsaid.
Kudos: 10





	Shadows Cast

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter at @mystic_writes

~*~   
  
You’re not ready to see him.    
  
You were expecting him, of course. You invited him yourself.   
  
One doesn’t wield the power of a Sacred Twin and emerge unchanged. You’d heard stories, of course. How, ever since wielding Vidofnir, Tana always flies with the wind at her back. How Innes’ arrows dart around walls and corners, slithering like a snake.    
  
Even now, with Sieglinde returned to the reliquary and the world ostensibly at peace, it's thunder lingers in your fingertips. Something has awakened within you; something worth studying. Power. Potential.    
  
It made for a fine pretense, at least.    
  
L’ara wouldn’t approve. But there are some demons even she cannot banish.    
  
He steps into the courtyard. He’s royalty now, or at least something like it. Archsage Knoll, regent of Grado.    
  
For all his finery, in his black silk and shimmering embroidery, he still looks as awkward as he always has. Meek and unassuming, as if he always feels the need to apologize simply for existing. You can see the relief on his face as he steps inside the quiet of the courtyard, a reprieve from the shouts and songs across the capital.    
  
For most of the world, today is a triumph. A celebration. But for you, it’s an anniversary.    
  
“Your Highness,” Knoll says. He dips his head into a bow, his hand over his heart, and for a second, there in the shadow of the garden arch, you see a glimpse of someone else.    
  
Knoll is a man who has lived his life in shadows, in more ways than one. You stroll together through the garden, surrounded by dappled sunlight and flowers in bloom, his dark robes an inkstain amid a sea of color.    
  
It isn’t the same. You know it, and he knows it. But Knoll indulges you, nonetheless.   
  
He lets you do most of the talking. He’s an excellent confessor, but a poor conversationalist. He’s just so quiet, so subtle and softspoken you can forget he’s there even when he’s right next to you. Talking to him is like talking to a ghost.    
  
You sit apart on a stone bench, watching as Knoll meticulously fusses with a stick of chalk. He fills the space between you with magical sigils, explaining as he goes. Practical spells, for travel, combat, utility. Eventually the conversation turns towards more esoteric fare. The forgotten, and the forbidden. Spells of illusion. Time. Memory.    
  
Grado was wise to make him co-regent. The new Lord General, Duessel, had the strength and charisma to lead a nation in crisis. But Knoll had knowledge. Answers. A spell for everything.    
  
Almost.    
  
Knoll guides you through the casting of Flux, the most basic dark magic spell. He reads you the incantation, shows you the sigil to scribe in the air. Power thrums in your fingertips. You cup your hands, concentrate, and the spell takes shape-- a shivering mass of shadows, blurred and distorted like heat haze.    
  
“Flux is a transformation,” Knoll explains, as the knot of darkness above your fingers roils and trembles like an unquiet mind. “In combat, it is used to warp your opponent into anything other than whole. But at its core, Flux magic, and all dark magic, is not destruction. It’s change.”   
  
You draw your hands together. The spill dissipates into nothing. But you can still feel it, somehow, somewhere inside you, twisting and churning away.    
  
“Most people find dark magic to be frightening,” Knoll muses. “What can be more frightening than change?”   
  
Ephraim lingers nearby, leaning against a tree trunk. He insisted on accompanying you, as your “bodyguard”. After a few token protests, you relented.    
  
Your eyes meet his. You see it then-- pain, sharp and glinting like a knife. It’s there for an instant, but then it’s gone, sheathed in that confident, cocksure smile.    
  
“Would you like to join us?” Knoll offers.   
  
“I’m no mage,” Ephraim shrugs. “I’m just here as a chaperone. To make sure you don’t get  _ too _ friendly.”   
  
“Archsage Knoll would never do anything untoward,” you reassure him.    
  
“No, indeed,” Knoll says, with the faintest of smiles. “A male dark mage? I’m quite the opposite of her type.”   
  
You laugh, together, in the dappled sunlight.    
  
It almost feels like home.    
  
~*~


End file.
